


Found in Darkness

by jakia



Series: Dark Side Skywalkers [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Leia Organa, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6259876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. In A New Hope, Leia fell to the dark side when Alderaan fell, calling on her latent Force abilities and Force-Chocking Moff Tarkin. Vader, sensing an opportunity, offers to teach Leia the Force so that, together, they might destroy the Emperor.</p>
<p>This is the moment where they realize that they might be connected by blood, and must deal with the fact that they are father and daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, I posted about an idea I had for a “Leia-falls-to-the-dark-side-in-ANH” AU (http://luckyjak.tumblr.com/post/139450248655/has-anyone-written-a-fic-where-when-alderaan). I didn’t plan to write it, but then the idea for this scene snuck in, so…have a fic?
> 
> Background Info: When Alderaan was destroyed in a New Hope, Leia fell to the dark side and immediately Force Choked Moff Tarkin. Vader, sensing an opportunity, took the newly-fallen Princess and offered to teach her the ways of the Force so that, together, they could overthrow the Emperor. Leia agreed. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan felt Leia’s fall in the Force and cancelled the rescue mission, so Luke, Han, Chewie, and Obi-Wan went immediately to the Rebellion instead.
> 
> Timeline: In between ANH and ESB, but the Death Star was destroyed later because the Rebellion lost Princess Leia. Also, no one on #TeamDarkside knows Luke Skywalker exists yet, only that a Rebel pilot with Force sensitivity destroyed the Death Star.

 

They fight.

They fight _constantly._

It’s Empire Day, the annual reminder of the worst day of Darth Vader’s life, and he’s spending it arguing loudly with the fallen princess instead of being alone in his chambers, mourning his wife and child. Normally, he enjoys spending time with the princess—she’s clever and competent and reminds of---well, she reminds him of a lot of people, actually. She reminds him of Padme in a painful way, with her dark hair and dark eyes and passion for justice. She reminds him of Ashoka, too, with her smart mouth, and he’s missed having another Jedi around to practice using the Force with. Mostly, she reminds him of someone he can’t place, but someone inherently familiar, and he feels he should know the answer.

Right now, she’s arguing with him because she wants to train, and he refuses. It’s her birthday, she claims, and she needs the distraction, something to take her mind of the destruction of Alderaan and the death of adopted parents.

“I thought, “she snaps, training lightsaber flung out carelessly in his direction. “That the whole point of me staying with you was so you could train me so I can be a Sith, not wait around for the Rebellion to get the drop on us and—“

“ _How_ ,” he roars, not really to the obnoxious princess but more to the universe at large, as if it has all the answers “How do you look so much like her, but act so much like—“

_Me._

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t—once the thought is there it takes over his ability to breathe, to think. _She’s like me_ repeats over and over in his head, pounding out any other idea there could be.

She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, and in that moment, she is the spitting image of Anakin Skywalker’s mother. “Act so much like _who_ , tincan?”

He’s going to be sick.

Instead, he sits down in his chair, and tries to remember how to breathe.

The princess huffs at him, unimpressed. “ _Well?_ ”

What does he know? He knows she’s adopted—that much is public knowledge; she couldn’t look any less like Bail or Breha Organa if she tried. And today is her birthday—the day Padme died, and didn’t he dream of her dying in childbirth? The Emperor had said that Padme died because Anakin killed her, and the baby died with her, and—

And the princess has his temper and his smart mouth, and his natural talent with the Force. And she shares Padme’s passion for politics, and—

They were going to name the baby _Leia_ , if it had been a girl.

“Are you alright, tincan?” The princess asks, her voice a little calmer, and slightly concerned. “Did one of your circuits fry or something, because I can find a droid and—“

“Do you know why I joined the Empire?” He sits up and folds his hands under his chin.

She looks over him, curious. “No, why?”

“I had a wife.”

“My condolences to her, then.” Leia responds, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

“I had a wife, and she was dying, and the Emperor told me he could save her,” Vader continues, talking faster than he means to. “But he didn’t, and she died, and so did our daughter she was pregnant with.”

Leia raises an eyebrow. “Well, that’s sad. But my _planet_ blew up, so if you are hoping to get out of training because of some sob story you’ve got another thing—“

“My daughter’s name was Leia,” Vader snaps, and Leia shuts up. Her mouth opens, like she wants to say something, but she stops herself, and she looks at him, and—“Her name was Leia, and I was told that she died _today_ , twenty years ago, and—“

“And today is my birthday,” Leia finishes for him, her eyes wide. But then she shakes her head. “Coincidence.”

“Is it?” Vader asks, genuinely. Because since the thought occurred to him, he hasn’t been able to let it go since.

“My parents were refugees to Alderaan. They died—“

“Oh _Alderann_. A peaceful planet, in your own words.”

“--And the Organas adopted me and, listen, I can’t be your daughter—that, that’s insane, you know that, right?”

“Is it so crazy of a thought?” Vader repeats, and he leans forward to look at the princess again. “You _look_ like her.”

“My parents were refugees. My father—Bail Organa would never lie to me.” Leia shakes her head. “He wouldn’t.”

“What if I’m right?” Vader asks, barely above a whisper.

“You aren’t, because my father would never lie to me. Okay? He _wouldn’t_.”

“Even to protect you?” Vader asks genuinely. “I would. I would lie to my daughter, if it meant protecting her.” And he imagines Bail Organa would feel the same about the dark haired girl sitting across from him now.

She doesn’t respond; for a moment, he wonders if she even heard him, and then. “What difference does it make, anyway? Who _cares_ if I’m your—biological daughter, it doesn’t _matter_ —“

“It matters to me!” Vader bellows, slamming his fist onto the arm of the chair and crushing the plastic beneath it. “It matters because I spent _twenty years_ thinking I killed the woman I loved, and if my _daughter_ survived then that means _I didn’t_ , and if he lied about that then _what else has he lied about?_ ”

Leia turns her chair so she isn’t facing him anymore; instead she looks out the window of the _Executor_ , like it might hold some sort of answer.

He leans forward and—gently, more gently than he’s ever done anything since he became Darth Vader—places his hand on her arm. “Please. I _must_ know. A blood test would only take a moment, and—“

“Okay,” she answers, and she still doesn’t look at him.

 

* * *

 

 

The test takes longer than he expects; he and Leia wait in a quiet little room while the medical droid they submitted the blood samples to beeps and whirls, calculating as it goes. His stomach feels like it’s in knots, like it’s doing jumping jacks inside his suit.

_What if I’m wrong?_ He thinks, glancing over at Leia, who doesn’t look up from her own hands. There are millions of dark haired, dark eyed women in the galaxy—she could very well be a refugee’s daughter turned princess, and if she is, his heart will break for a second time. Then he notices the training lightsaber hanging from her hip, and thinks _but what if I’m right?_

“I never wondered who my biological parents were,” Leia says into the quiet room. She’s ignored him since agreeing to the blood test, so he’s a little surprised that she’s decided to speak to him now of her own volition. “I never needed to. I had everything I could have ever wanted—I had parents who loved me, I was a princess, and when my father told me my parents were refugees I _believed_ him, without question. And I never wondered—“ She bit her lip fretfully. “Alderaan was a peaceful planet. How do two refugees die there suddenly?”

“Would it be so terrible,” he asks, quieter than he intends. “If I were your father?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she laughs brokenly, still fidgeting with her hands. “What was your wife like?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that—not at first. How to describe Padme? She was an angel, the love of his life, and she died because of him, and if she could see him now she’d be horrified, and—

“ANALYSIS COMPLETE. GENETIC MATCH CONFIRMED.” The droid beeps loudly. “MOST PROBABLE RELATION IS FATHER AND DAUGHTER BLOOD SIMILAIRITY IS—“

Vader shuts the droid down, and Leia’s world comes crashing down around her.

 

* * *

 

 

After the droid confirmed what they had already begun to suspect, Vader leaves. He doesn’t say a word, but gathers himself and leaves the room, leaving Leia alone.

So she goes back to her room, and she cries.

She isn’t upset at the revelation. It’s not—it’s not _ideal;_  she would absolutely have chosen anyone else to be her biological father, but it isn’t the worst thing. He’s a monster, yes, but she’s a monster, too. Since her fall to the dark side, she’s become more and more monstrous, a creature forged in darkness and tempered by hatred. It makes _sense_ that she’s his daughter.

No, what hurts her the most is what this revelation means.

It means Leia Organa, the little rebel girl, the princess, the daughter of Bail Organa, the senator—is well and truly gone. The girl who believed in Alderaan, the girl who believed what her father told her and taught her, that girl is lost, then, and she can never return. Never again will Leia be able to call herself _Organa_ with pride, and she will never be able to look back at her memories of her adopted parents without thinking _liars_ and _you stole a baby, you **stole** me, how can you have raised me to be good when you knew part of me came from him?_

And then, a quiet thought: no wonder she fell to the dark side when Alderaan fell. The dark side was always waiting for her, like a parent waiting eagerly for its lost daughter.

The girl who loved and believed in her parents is dead now. Maybe she died when Alderaan did, and she’s just a shadow walking around wearing her skin.

So, she cries. She cries for hours, and then she sleeps, and when she wakes up again she’s numb to the world.

That’s when Vader returns.

She senses his presence before he knocks on her door, a gentle little push in her mind, a nudge that asks _are you okay/do you want to see me_. She realizes when he pushes that she does want to see him, actually: she wants to know—well, everything, if she’s honest. Who he was before he was Vader, who her mother was, how he’s managed to know her for a year without figuring out who she is before now.

So she opens her bedroom door, and there is Vader.

He’s brought cake.

The image is so ridiculous, she almost feels like laughing. Here he is, the Dark Lord of the Sith, the Right Hand of the Emperor, and he’s carrying a bright pink cake, one with her name on it. In his arms is also a present, neatly wrapped, and a small box underneath it that he’d barely manage to balance if not for the Force.

He tips his head down at her. “May I?”

She opens the door wider, and lets him in.

He sets the armful of things he’s carrying on the table in her room. “It’s surprisingly difficult to find a birthday cake while in hyperspace,” he confesses, turning towards her with the carefully wrapped present in his hands. “I know it doesn’t make up for twenty years of missed birthdays but, well,” he hands her the gift. “Happy birthday.”

She blinks at him. “You got me a birthday present?”

“Yes. Go on, open it.”

She does, carefully tearing apart the paper covering the gift. She doesn’t recognize what it is; at first glance, it just looks like a box of tools and gadgets. “What is it?”

“The things you’ll need to construct your own lightsaber.”

She snaps her head up, looking at his dark mask with surprise. “A lightsaber? I thought you said I wasn’t ready for an actual lightsaber, that I was too reckless and haven’t been trained enough with martial combat and I was going to, to quote you, cut my hand off.”

“Well, you _are_ my daughter. You still might,” she can tell with the Force that he’s smiling behind his mask. “But I figured it was time to start teaching you how to use a real one.” He places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently. “I bet you’re a natural.”

She doesn’t know how to respond, but she was raised to be polite. “Thank you.”

He tips his head at her once, and then turns and grabs the other box. “I also thought you might be interested in this.”

Now he’s got her attention. “What is it?”

“Everything I have left of your mother,” he whispers quietly, as if he’s not sure how to approach the subject. “There are letters she and I wrote to one another, holopics, public recordings of her speaking.” He speaks a little bit louder, as if he’s surer of himself. “She would be proud of you. As I am.”

She is done crying, then.

“Will you tell me about her? And about you? And just—everything?”

He nods only once before he hands her a datapad with a holorecording on it. In the recording there is a man—handsome and attractive—holding the hand of a dark haired beauty. They look happy and in love, and the only real surprising thing to Leia is that she recognizes both of them after only a few moments of study.

“Anakin Skywalker?” She asks, incredulous. “ _You_ were Anakin Skywalker? The Clone Wars general?”

She can feel his happiness radiating. “You knew about me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re a historical figure. I used to read about your victories in my Clone Wars class. They were always my favorite part.” She smiles, wild and bright, and turns her attention back to the image from her parent’s wedding. “And—Senator Amidala? _That’s_ my mother?”

“You know of her, too, then.”

“A little bit. I know she and my father were friends, and—“ She stops herself.

_Father._ Bail Organa isn’t her father; Anakin Skywalker is.

She must be projecting her thoughts again, because Darth Vader shakes his head. “He will always be your father, Leia. He raised you. He probably did a better job at it than I ever could.” He looks out of the window grimly. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t in a good place when you were born. When your mother died.”

“How can you say that?” Leia snaps, drawing on the darkness, the kind that has encompassed her like a cocoon since Alderaan’s fall. “ _I’m_ furious. He _lied to me_. He lied to me for my _entire life_. How are you _not_ furious?”

“You’re alive,” Vader places a solid hand on her shoulder once more. “You’re alive, and you’re healthy and whole and at my side. How can I be anything other than overjoyed?”

 

* * *

 

They talk for hours, later than either of them intends, but they cannot help it. They have _found_ each other, again after being separated for so long, and she wants to know everything. She’s eaten half of her birthday cake for supper and drank half a bottle of wine that she has stashed in her room, and while the Dark Lord Vader doesn’t eat or drink, she thinks he might be a little drunk off of her presence.

“Leia Amidala Skywalker,” she smirks, pouring more wine into a glass. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Your mother was going to name you _Luke_ ,” Vader laughs, and when he laughs now it’s loud and boisterous, so unlike the sinister sound she knew before. “She was _convinced_ that you were a boy, but not me. I _knew_ you were a girl. The first time you kicked _I knew_ , only a girl would kick like that.”

“Mother thought I was going to be a boy?”

“Yes. It was the biggest thing we fought about. I would tell her to stop calling my daughter Luke, and she would tell me to stop calling our son Leia,” he smiles through the Force, a little sadly. “I suppose I won that argument.”

Leia curls her legs up against her chest, resting her head on her knee. “Did you guys never think to check?”

“No. Your mother was insistent that it should be a surprise. Something about it being a Naboo superstition.”

The thought of her mother being superstitious makes her smile. She knows so much, now. So many questions she never thought to ask have been answered, and she feels—closer. Can you feel closer to a dead woman? Leia takes another sip of her wine, and thinks.

“I used to have an imaginary friend named Luke.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. A blonde boy who lived in the desert. I used to dream about him,” she smiles, downing the last bit of wine. “I haven’t thought about it in years.”

She feels Vader’s puzzlement. “A desert?”

“Yeah, it was the strangest thing. Alderaan’s so mountainous, but in my dreams it was always scorching sand and two suns, and—“

Vader’s comlink beeps, interrupting their conversation. He looks at her sadly before answering it. “What is it?”

_“The bounty hunter has returned, sir. He says he has the name of the pilot who blew up the Death Star._ ”

Important work, then. Leia uncurls her legs and stretches.

“Excellent. Have him wait there.” Vader stands, puts the datapad back in the box it came from. “Want to come learn the name of the Rebel pilot? The Force user?”

She takes his hand as he helps her stand. “You mean my personal hero? Of course.”

“ _Leia_.”

“Kidding,” she smirks, but he knows she’s not. She’s glad the Death Star’s gone, and is only sorry that she wasn’t the person to blow it up herself.

He can’t fault her for that.

 

* * *

 

 

They walk together, side by side, in sync in a way they’ve never been before. Whoever this Force user is, Vader is glad for his presence, for the existence of this untrained Force user means that the Emperor is focused on him and doesn’t seem to notice the daughter Vader has acquired.

Almost twelve hours now, and the thought still brings him joy. He has a _daughter._

Boba Fett awaits them in the _Executor’s_ main hold, arms crossed while waiting for Vader’s arrival. He eyes Leia suspiciously, but doesn’t remark on her presence. “I lost him.” The bounty hunter tells him.

“That’s disappointing. Did you bring me anything of value?”

“Not much. Just his name. Luke Skywalker.”

For the second time in less that twelve hours, Vader’s world crumbles.

Beside him, Leia thinks, brightly, _I have a brother._ The boy in the desert, the boy from her dreams, he’s real and he’s her brother. The Rebel Pilot, the other Force user, the one who destroyed the space station that ruined her life, that’s Luke Skywalker. That’s her twin.

It feels right, like she should have always known this. It’s less of a revelation than learning that Vader was her father: this feels natural and normal, like it’s something as instinctive in her as her ability to use the Force.

Vader, though…

The window of the _Executor_ cracks gently.

“We’re done here, then.” The bounty hunter announces, and leaves them be.

She pushes gently with the Force, and she feels Vader’s mind open up to her own. It’s full of _hurtragebetrayalconfusiongriefjoy_ , and she understands, how he must feel.

He’s missed both his children’s lives, and Luke isn’t even here with them, now.

But Vader isn’t alone, and so she steps next to him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “We’ll find him, Father. He’ll join us, just like I joined you. He’ll understand the power of the dark side.”

She feels his _ragegriefrelief_ begin to simmer in his mind, changes to _gratitudepridehope._ “Yes,” he says out loud, looking at the fleet of ships through the _Exectuor’s_ cracked windows. “Yes, he will.”

* * *

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: Obviously, this was influenced in part from the comic Darth Vader #6, with added Leia, because what doesn’t get better with more Leia?
> 
> Note 2: I subscribe to fialleril’s headcanons, so I like to think Vader baked Leia’s birthday cake himself, and its Skywalker-blend tzai flavored.


End file.
